


In the Bitch Seat

by Grimmy88



Category: Left 4 Dead 2
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-26
Updated: 2013-11-26
Packaged: 2018-01-02 17:04:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1059362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grimmy88/pseuds/Grimmy88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick and Ellis, the latter's Harley, and a bit of jealousy on the conman's part.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Bitch Seat

            Nick realized he’d made a mistake suggesting they do something for their fifth year together when blue eyes lit up too brightly too quickly and excited arms crushed around his waist.

            He knew he was truly screwed, however when, attempting to push the younger man away by his goddamn forehead, he found that the hick had the better leverage and there was no guarantee he was going to relinquish it a moment before he wanted. So he was left wondering at what point in the past five years it had become alright for overly affectionate physical contact outside of sex.

            “Wekin get them tattoos we wanted,” Ellis suggested breathlessly, as if all his energy was being channeled into his arms.

            “Firstly; you wanted them. Secondly; no.”

            “Aw, c’mon. Tattoos are awesome.”

            “Ellis, I have to see you every day. Trust me, that’s enough of a physical reminder of my shitty luck.”

            The hick frowned and his hold softened. “Then what?”

            Nick, sensing his opening, peeled the arms from around him by his lover’s soft, warm wrists. “We could go somewhere.” He dropped them after a quick swipe of his thumbs over the blue veins and then crossed into their kitchen.

            Ellis followed and heaved himself up onto the counter, next to the coffee pot which he’d been correct in assuming was Nick’s direction. The conman pulled down the largest mug he owned and filled it to the brim.

            “Like where?”

            Nick shrugged. “You pick.”

            “I dunno.”

            “Sure, you do.” The first sip was too-warm and pungent down his throat. “We can go anywhere you want.”

            “But not to a tattoo parlor,” Ellis grumbled.

            “…If that’s what you want you’re going alone.”

            “Well, that ain’t real celebratory fer the both-a us.”

            Nick hid the curve of his mouth against the mug’s own. “Then pick something that would be ‘celebratory fer the both-a us.’” He watched the way the heels of socked feet moved up and rubbed against the wood of the cupboard beneath them. He drew another deep gulp and wondered how long it’d been since the material had been washed and then decided, fuck it, he’d have to clean it later now that he’d seen.

            “Anywhere?”

            “Anywhere,” Nick agreed.

            “Like Europe?”

            “If you want.”

            “Or Africa?”

            The gambler pursed his lips.

            Ellis smiled and nudged the older man’s thigh with one of those probably dirty socks. “I was kiddin’.”

            “Funny.” Nick turned away from him to the kitchen table and the newspaper that was spread out and open across it. He sat down and immediately pushed the chair out beside him with his leg but didn’t look up when Ellis plopped down onto it.

            “Wekin go-ta Hawaii; ya saidjya liked it there.”

            “Do _you_ want to go there?” Nick repositioned the glasses on his face instead of looking up.

            “Guess not,” Ellis murmured. Because that was where Nick had gone on honeymoon with his ex-wife, not that it needed to be said, the lingering silence that they lapsed into was enough. So he looked up now to watch the redneck learn forward and sprawl over the table so his chin could rest on the smooth surface.

            Another thing he’d have to clean.

            “Pick your head up; you’re not seven.”

            Ellis obeyed but switched his weight to slouch backwards instead. “I dunno.”

            There’d been a reason he’d asked the kid for his input. He knew, of course, that just asking had made the kid ecstatic enough. He knew that without prompting, however, Ellis would relent in letting the conman call all the shots. Just like he knew there had to be somewhere, besides a goddamn tattoo parlor, where the kid wanted to go.

            “Yer better at pickin’ places.”

            True, but he wanted the mechanic to pick. At least once. So long as it wasn’t that tattoo parlor. Or a NASCAR race. Or playing the banjo or whatever the hell else southerners wasted their time with.

            “Not gonna argue with you there,” Nick said, “but you’re picking.” He stood and crossed back towards the stove.

            “Can we go-ta--?”

            “If you say Disneyland I’m going to burn your bacon.”

 

            Nick found the kid outside towards the end of the day. Well, he’d heard him outside blaring loud and fast on his Harley, anyway. He’d been circling around the streets conjoining their neighborhood and every so often the obnoxious resonance of a motorcycle’s engine would careen through their windows.

            The conman wasn’t sure which lap he managed to catch his lover’s attention on but he watched the helmet turn and waited patiently until the bike rolled into the parking spot before his shoes.

            He watched the way the hick’s hips moved as he planted both feet on either side of the bike, the way he turned off the engine, the way he kicked back the stand. Then he watched the way it was juxtaposed by the helmet coming free and his curls bouncing up, misdirected and innocent.

            “Hey,” Ellis said around his smile.

            “Hey.”

            “Wanna hop on?”

            “In the bitch seat? No, thanks.”

            “C’mon,” the hick urged. “Youkin wear the helmet.”

            Nick stared at him blankly.

            “Please?”

            Sighing, a long, really fucking annoyed sigh, Nick swung a leg over the back seat. By the time he’d settled enough to draw his legs up away from the pavement Ellis had kicked up the stand, reapplied his helmet, and was pushing them backwards.

            Nick braided his arms around Ellis’ slim waist and they were off.

            The redneck liked to go fast, which he supposed was a given about rednecks in general. But _his_ redneck’s speed, too high for the streets they were traversing, probably had something to do with the way it forced the ex-con to move closer and grip tighter.

            Which probably detracted from the overall sexual appeal the kid usually exemplified atop his bike.

            They slowed to a stop at a red light piled full of staring kids. When Ellis planted his legs down to balance Nick knocked on the covering hiding his skull.

            “Where are we going?” he asked once the visor flipped up.

            He felt the shrug against him, irked almost immediately by the possibility of a forced joy ride. He really had never been a fan of not knowing his destination. But he didn’t say anything, mainly because the visor had clicked down again and he didn’t feel like screaming. So he just put his hands back around the hick’s stomach.

            When prevalent muscles twitched under the passing of his touch he felt provoked enough to slide it under the thin material of his driver’s shirt to find skin instead. It probably wasn’t the best position to be feeling his part up, however, considering the hunch he’d adopted to drive and the viewing gallery beside them.

            He felt muscle, of course, but he could also feel the lines that had folded into his lover’s flesh on behalf of the awkward positioning. When he traced one of those folds Ellis caught his wrist with tight fingers. And when he looked up he could see the color that had darkened the back of the neck before him.

            The car behind them honked loud and a touch longer than preferred and the mechanic was compelled to speed off without the removal of the older man’s hands.

            So Nick decided not to flip the bird to the horn-blowers as a sign of appreciation.

            They drove for a good amount of time before Ellis turned off onto a quieter road, one that led through the older parts of their town; one that intersected large, creaking houses and large, rustling trees.

            The sun followed them as they continued on, racing to watch them through the cracks given between leaves in order to sear flashing patterns of warmth on their arms and necks and shoulders.

            Each of the houses had porches, wrapping and girthed about their bases. It reminded Nick of Annalynne’s house, no longer Ellis’, with its own wide porch that had provided sanctuary for them when the population of Savannah could go and fuck themselves.

            Ellis paused at the stop sign at the end of the street before turning left. There were more houses here, smaller but with luxurious yards that contained the flailing limbs of parents, their children, and pets alike. By the time they peeled back onto one of the bigger roads Nick couldn’t help but wonder if the entire side trip was some form of not-so-subtle subliminal message.

            But the next time they stopped it was outside a swank Italian restaurant so he let it go.

            Nick climbed off before the southerner had properly parked, let alone shut off the engine. When Ellis joined him he nudged his head towards the door. “Hungry?”

            The kid laughed as he withdrew his helmet, trapping it under his arm and against his hip. “Yeah. I got money if ya left yer card.”

            “Do I ever leave my card?” Nick crossed to the entrance to open the door, letting Ellis cross before him to pull on the second.

            Inside they were met with the bustle of a crowd and the forced smile of a too-skinny hostess. Nick was sure he elbowed three people out of his way while crossing to her, not to mention the knee he gave the little brat that had chosen that precise moment to scurry out in front of him.

            “Hi,” the hostess offered. “Two?”

            “Yeah; how long’s the wait?”

            “Forty minutes to an hour but you can stand and wait in the bar, if you’d like.”

            Nick cast a glance to his partner who nodded absently. He turned back to the girl. “Alright. Put it under Nick.”

            She wrote something down in chicken scratch and then offered him a square buzzer with a small smile.

            The bar was small and just as cluttered as the lobby had been. As they approached, however, a woman and her date, who had been standing so that she could occupy a seat, where buzzed to their table. Nick took his own date by the back of his neck and swung him forward to the seat before anybody else could decide to worm their way in and block the duo’s path to all that alcohol.

            The conman leaned into the space between Ellis’ stool and the next to rest his elbow on the bar itself. The bartender approached them a moment later when Nick flicked his wrist to get his attention.

            Ellis asked politely for a beer and Nick grunted out a ‘ditto,’ and when it arrived cupped his hand around the sweating glass without another mimicry of his lover’s ‘thank you.’

            They stood and sat in companionable silence for several moments, taking in their surroundings and making dents in their drinks before Ellis turned back to him. He tapped the pads of his fingers on the bar, no clicking of the nails to accompany them because they looked chewed down once again, and smiled.

            Nick snorted and rolled his neck, causing it to pop twice on one side and three times on the other just to watch the hick visibly wince.

            The man on the other side of Ellis slid off his own seat then and crossed out of the bar and into the dining area to connect his hands with an elder woman’s, his mother or something, before walking off.

            The gambler had barely pushed himself off the bar when two young girls who must’ve been scouting out the counter for the last several minutes hurried over, bouncing and hair flying to take the seat. The taller of the two, a perky-nosed rich little thing by the looks of her, took the seat at the second’s behest.

            Nick sighed, backed up to make room for Ellis because, as expected, the mechanic climbed down from his own seat and offered it with a flourish of hands and motion to the shorter girl. She blushed and hoisted herself up onto the tall chair.

            When her hand snatched out onto Ellis’ wrist and her voice accompanied by asking him to stay Nick ordered a bottle of the hardest liquor in the building.

 

            More than halfway through that bottle their buzzer still hadn’t gone off, the girls hadn’t walked off, and his sobriety hadn’t tapered enough. The chair on the other side of him had long since become unoccupied and so the conman had taken residence upon it, nursing his small glasses of heavy liquid while Ellis leaned on the bar as a buffer in between his lover and the two girls.

            The three talked back and forth and Nick eavesdropped, refusing to add in a word even when prompted by the redneck. These girls were twenty-three, four? And yeah, before that apocalypse, before Ellis, he probably could’ve gotten one, hell, probably the both of them to accompany home. But now they were too young, too gaudy, and too hands-y for his liking.

            Especially hands-y on his partner who didn’t both fending off hands or sultry comments with anything but a smile that attempted but failed at indifference. And Nick let it go on because they were past this at this stage in their relationship.

            Because they’d experienced things like this on both their ends. Ellis had young things hovering around him all the time and Nick had the only slightly older and far more sensuous literally hanging from his arms without truly beckoning them.

            And in the end it never mattered: they’d gone home with each other and never mentioned any of it again.

            That wasn’t to say it wasn’t overly obvious how the kid felt when he saw all those women gripping onto Nick. His eyes would squint and then his face would follow, warped and unattractive but then again jealousy was never supposed to be, he guessed.

            Nick had never let his face sour that way when approached with the same situation. He glared, sure, and he affected a generally cold façade towards any and everyone within a mile radius, but he’d never physically scowled at any of the twenty-somethings that tried to get Ellis to accompany them home.

            …Okay, maybe once or twice, but not regularly.

            So he didn’t understand why, when Shorty dropped her hand from Ellis’ forearm onto his flank, because it was one of the more easily intimate places she could reach, he was suddenly standing and the chair he had been upon was clattering. And he had half a mind to grab her little wrist and snap it with a twist of his own but he didn’t really feel like dealing with police, court, and then jail only to come home to Ellis’ own lecturing.

            Instead he was wrapping an arm around the hillbilly’s waist and turning the cleft chin to the side with his free hand so he could seal their mouths together. He could pretend it was because of the alcohol or because of the brat’s naivety but he realized it didn’t really matter considering how fucking triumphant it made him feel which was a ridiculous thing in itself.

            The girls didn’t know how to react and whether they realized it or not their painted lips drooped open. Their silence seemed to deafen the room, or at least the surrounding area, he was aware of conversation and familial laughter further off, but within their vicinity all talk had ceased.

            Nick didn’t pull away when Ellis tucked his chin down to separate their mouths, instead he leaned his cheek against the side of his lover’s face and dropped his hand to cover one toned pectoral and leveled the girls with a stare.

            Before he could spout off the colorful pattern of words he’d chosen Ellis’ own voice bustled forth, breathless and livid and timid: “…Uh, this is Nick an’ we’re gonna get goin’…”

            The northerner squeezed the muscle under his hand. “I thought you were hungry.”

            Ellis smiled for the girls, tight, pained, and of course embarrassed, but there was no underlying anger in it nor in the way he pulled Nick along. “C’mon.”

            “Oh, see, he must be drunk,” Nick called back. “That makes him horny.”

            “NICK!” Ellis did drop his grip then, if dropped was the correct word for practically throwing Nick’s arm away, and turned to stare at him in horror.

            “What?” Nick tried not to laugh it but trying was a hard thing to accomplish when a little more than tipsy.

            Also hard to accomplish was walking out of a too-crowded restaurant with children flying back and forth between unstable and unassisted legs. The glares and stares and averted gazes he could handle.

            Ellis was already waiting for him, bike humming, helmet on, and hands tight on the handlebars when he managed to get out of the front doors. Nick took his sweet time in walking towards him anyway, making a show out of every step, out of placing his hands in his pockets, and out of standing before him with his hips and shoulders squared.

            “C’mon.” It was blank which also made it Ellis’ disappointed, angry, and upset voice.

            “Relax, Overalls. I was playing around.”

            “Real funny. Let’s go.”

            Nick grunted and shifted his weight. “Can’t you go a day without acting like a kid?”

            “Me?” The visor flipped up and the gambler mused at the way Ellis’ cheeks were bulged. “Ya juss groped me infront-a all them people, Nick.”

            He knew he could list the injustices that compelled him to do so, if he so chose. Like the absence of chairs or the long ass wait or the too touchy hands of two whores but he just shrugged and blurted: “I drank half of that bottle, Ellis.”

            The helmet’s window shut again.

            “You’re going to tell me,” Nick began, swinging a leg over the space behind Ellis’ back and leaning close to the ear of the helmet, “that all of a sudden you hate me touching you in public?”

            “No,” Ellis returned, “I hate whatchya yelled.”

            “Why? Was I lying?”

            When the redneck didn’t answer Nick put his arms around him, palms first at his sides and then around his front, one up and the other down to make sure for himself. As a counteraction Ellis screeched out of the parking spot and then lot onto the road before revving the engine and speeding through two yellow lights so close to turning red that Nick was sure they were actually orange.

            Unfortunately for Ellis the danger of such a speed and the corresponding failure to hold tight enough didn’t register in Nick’s slurred mind. He just leant the majority of his weight forward against the hick’s back so that his hands could roam freely.

            Most of the lights they passed through were green and Ellis could do nothing but steer while Nick could think nothing but touching. He felt along nipples, ribs, and those lines of flesh freely and uninterrupted. He followed the pouch of stomach down into the waistband that had moved up to encircle it and fingered the skin that had been rubbed there by the denim.

            Finally when he dipped lower to feel along the soft skin where thigh and pelvis met, the hick’s arms jerked in a fashion that almost sent them reeling into a Chevrolet, and so Nick decided he could wait a little longer… or at least until they were in the parking lot of their apartment building.

            And when they were in that parking lot and Ellis silenced the engine Nick’s hands were back before he could move off the seat.  At first crushing hands tensed onto his own turning his caresses into jagged movements of hard touch. So Nick focused on settling his lips upon the length of the neck he had in front of him down to where it conjoined into shoulder.

            And if Ellis was really mad, which if his loosening hands meant anything he wasn’t, all he had to do was buck his skull backwards or an elbow or even just reach back to tap the kickstand into place. But he did none of those things, which was probably better overall for the hick’s health.

            Callused hands never removed themselves from the guidance position they had adopted over top Nick’s own, but their pressure released. The gambler reverted back to his former motions then, feeling over his chest and the hard nipples there with fingers and two thumb strokes each before carousing downwards against ribs and the middle line of his lover’s stomach.

            Ellis did move then to lean backwards and smooth out the lines of his stomach so that it was easier to feel muscle and youth. How he did this while managing to balance with his thighs was an impressive feat Nick would have to remember for later.

            For now, however, he just took advantage of his lover’s kind offering and slid his hands back and forth, petting and stroking.

            “You like making me jealous.” Now, when Nick thought up the words he was sure somewhere he’d meant it to be embarrassing for his driver. When they left his mouth, however, he was a little amused to find that they were most likely true. “You wanted me jealous?”

            Ellis turned his head, bared more of that neck and the ex-con lowered down with teeth bared to make bruises and blemishes. As he worked his nips upwards, high enough that he could feel the beating of blood through veins underneath his mouth he paused, let the rhythm tap against him for a moment longer before sliding his hands downwards into loose jeans.

            Hips and a heart rate both shot up, one easily indulged with warm hands and a pulsing grip, while the other continued to race away, pounding and excited and unable to calm because of too-erratic breaths and overriding pleasure.

            Nick moved to his ear again. “You win, then.” He stroked the hard flesh beneath his hand with rapid flicks of his wrist, slight pulsing of his palm, and then slow drags of gripping fingers. And whenever Ellis’ breath hitched he smeared his thumb over the slit at the top and circled it around then three times before repeated the pattern.

            He switched his mouth to the other side of the hick’s now-sweating neck at about the same time he shoved his second hand down under the material of Ellis’ boxers, down past where the first worked fervently so he could cup the warm sac there and roll the flesh, very delicately, between his fingers.

            The bike swayed lightly beneath them and so Nick paused for a fraction of a second so that he could position his legs to take full control of the balancing. And Ellis’ own immediately spread wide, he pistoned his hips forward so that more of his flesh was free to the older man’s touch.

            And Nick obliged once again, sucking skin above and pulling it below until the mechanic was mumbling and murmuring and gasping at him. Until he was bucking and spilling in his pants.

            The ex-con added to the mess by wiping his withdrawn hand on the thigh of Ellis’ jeans.

            He was going to get up, really, but he remembered he was supposed to be halfway drunk and decided it would be wise to wait until the hick got his own bearings so he could help Nick find his own before attempting to venture inside. So he put his arms around on Ellis’s stomach and waited.

            “Y’see,” Ellis slurred then, “this is why I don’t think we could go-ta Europe fer-a anniversary…I’m pretty sure we juss traumatized at least five-a our neighbors.”


End file.
